


You Are So Beautifully Unaware, Darling

by CoffeesForFuckers



Category: The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Alternate Universe - The Great Gatsby, Confession, Everyone Is Gay, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Gay, Gay Character, Gay For You, Jay Gatsby Lives, Kissing, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Sick!Gatsby, This actually kinda sucks, but yeah, gatsby is gay for nick, nick is gay for gatsby, pure fluff, sleeping, very gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 04:59:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14301309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeesForFuckers/pseuds/CoffeesForFuckers
Summary: Nick goes to visit Gatsby, using the excuse of a forgotten umbrella. To his dismay, Gatsby is feeling ill so, Nick stays with him to make him feel better since Gatsby doesn't quite know what being sick is like.He never intended on confronting his feelings.





	You Are So Beautifully Unaware, Darling

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, new trash for Gay Gatsby   
> enjoy (It prolly sucks)

Its nearly half past ten when I crack the large knocker on Gatsby's front door. One of his servants opens the door with a flat expression. 

"Morning, Christian." I nod at him and he lets out a huff.

"What would you like, Mr. Carroway?" He asks me and I bite the tip of my tongue lightly.

"Well, I'm just returning this to Gatsby," I present the umbrella that I'd been using as a cane as I'd stood there. "He left it at my house yesterday when the rain stopped." I explain as he looks me over.

"Mr. Gatsby has not risen yet, I will inform him you came." That was an odd statement as Gatsby was always, always up far before myself. Maybe those late nights finally caught up to him.

"I also brought some tea that he liked. I could make him some to rise to?" Real subtle, Nick.

The butler sighs at me, knowing that I wouldn't be leaving until I was allowed to see Gatsby. He steps aside slightly.

"Alright, we'll we will have the maid make the tea. You can bring it to him." 

I relent and hand the tea to one of the scrawny, blonde girls in tight clothing and she bounds off with her fake breasts towards the kitchen.

I see Gatsby has a type other than Daisy and it surely isn't me. I may be hopelessly queer but, I'm not blind. The girls are stunning. Not as much as Gatsby, of course but, you get the point.

I give the room a once over. I've been into this place at least a thousand-and-sixteen times and I still don't know more than about three or four of the rooms in the building.

“Sir, the tea is ready.” A dark-haired, olive-skinned maid says, carrying a tray my way. She was extremely beautiful and I smile at her.

“Thank you.” I give her a nod and take the serving tray from her.

“Would you like me to show you where his room is?” She asks me kindly.

“No, that’s fine, I’ve been there before. Thank you again.” I smile for a second time at her.

“Okay.” She bows lightly before hurrying back towards the kitchen.

I wander my way through at least five rooms, the dining room, the ballroom, a sunroom, another ballroom and the library, before I stumble upon his bedroom. It should’ve been much easier to find as it says  **_‘Gatsby’_ ** in big, bold, golden script across the door.

I tap against the wooden door. “Gatsby?” I speak slightly louder than usual. The door is open a crack and I push it gently. It swings open slowly with a creak. There’s a mound of pillows and blankets overflowing off of Gatsby’s bed. It sends a light panic through me as I place the tray down on a table near the door. “Jay…?” I ask, my voice smooth but loud throughout the house-sized room.

The mound stirs and there’s the sound of muffled coughing and choking before all of them burst upright, flying everywhere and a confused and agitated looking Gatsby is sat upright in the middle of it all. His hair is mussed and he has a faint stubble on his cheeks.

He groans and lets out a feeble cough before tipping forward. I panic and scurry to him. “Jay! Are you alright?” I croak as I reach him. Gatsby tips onto his side, lying like a toddler that decided to sleep exactly where they were. He looks up at me with his big blue eyes, shining sickly.

Gatsby grabs me by the collar of my shirt. “Nick! I-... I think I may be dying! I-... My chest feels like it’s caving in on me and I-I… I can’t breathe and my nose is stuffed and I keep choking… Nick, my head, it-”

I start to laugh, I can’t help it.

“Nick! What are you laughing at me? I am  _ dying! _ ” He gasps dramatically.

“Jay, calm down,” I chuckle and my finger press to his forehead. “You’ve just a fever.” I shake my head.

“I-... What?” He sits up a bit, getting closer to my face as he was still gripping my collar desperately.

“Just got a cold, you’re fine.” I pat his hair down a little. He collapses back to his bed and yanks me with him, I land flat over his chest.

I scramble to my feet and Gatsby lets go. I’m pretty sure that he didn’t notice my franticness and my distressed state.

I clear my throat and brush my hands over my coat before shakily making my way back to where I’d placed the tea, taking my suit jacket off and placing it over my arm. “Where are you going?” Gatsby sits and sways dizzily. “Don’t tell me your leaving.” He sounded more like a scared child than a disappointed adult.

“I-... I brought you tea. I thought it may help you wake,” I show him the tray as I walk it across the room and place it on the table closest to his bed. “If your throat is sore then this may help that as well.” I hold a cup out to him, he stares for a moment before taking in shaking hands.

“Thank you, old sport,” He’s suddenly shy as he sips at the still hot tea. “You-...” He hesitates for only a second before sliding over on his massive bed. “You can sit, Nick.” 

I think for a moment and sit on the edge. He waits a bit before moving closer to me and leaning to place the cup down. He coughs feebly into his arm and pulls the covers around him like a small child would. Everything about him is so innocently reminiscent of a small kid, unsure of most things even when he usually doesn’t show it, it’s still there.

“Thank you for coming over, old sport,” He brushes his arm to mine. “You’re a good, honest man, Nick… I admire you.”

“I’m not great, I just act the way that people should act, you know?” I mumble and he gives me a confused glance. “They’re a rotten crowd,” I say, referring to our awful friend group. “You’re worth the whole damn bunch put together.” That was the only compliment I have ever paid Gatsby and it makes his cheeks burn.

“I-... Thank you, Nick…” He mumbles to himself. “I like you a fair amount more than the others myself.” 

Gatsby yawns and rubs his eyes. “I should let you sleep.” I go to stand but he grabs my shirt with both his hand.

“No!” He flushes, wide-eyed at his outburst. “I-... I just meant, well… Please stay, old sport.”

I’m not quite sure what to say. I’m so flustered by Gatsby’s touch that I can barely breathe let alone think or speak. Gatsby has also never been one to stutter or stammer or trip over his words, he spoke so slowly and calmly with no hesitation. Suddenly, he’s spewing words and thoughts and things that healthy Gatsby would avoid. Sick Gatsby however, trips over himself in a flustered haze.

“Of course, Jay.” My voice is weak.

“Okay…” He breathes.

“Jay?” I ask and he hums to show he’s listening. “Have you never been sick before?”

“Well, I obviously was as a child but not since long before I left home.” He admits. I touch his forearm lightly and shy away like a spooked deer.

“I understand now.” I nod and he gives me a wary look.

“What?” He croaks and coughs against my shoulder.

“Why you panicked like you did. You don’t know what being sick is like,” I answer, glancing at him and he nods, falling asleep as he was and his head falls to my shoulder. “Jay.” I croak and shrug. 

He sits up and looks at me, confused. “Oh, sorry.” He yawns again and I turn more to him. 

“Jay, I can-” He falls to my chest this time and I freeze. I honestly can’t move with the way his head fell so intimately on me. I swallow and try to force some kind of human sound from my mouth but, all that comes is a broken squeak.

His arms fall around me as he gets comfortable, making me fall over. He doesn’t so much as stur at the feeling. I surrender, accepting my fate. Being gay and trapped under the most wonderful man on the earth truly is torture.

I bring my hand up and pull it away before I touch him, hesitating for far too long before pressing my fingers into his hair, stroking it like a cat. I swear he’s purring like one but, he is sick and probably just stuffed up, causing him to snore. I get to stare at him now too. He’s flawless.

I run my hand down to his cheek, cupping it and getting a little too brave as I rub my thumb over his stubbly jaw. His skin is so damn soft and my heart is pounding. I’m shocked that it hadn’t woken him yet.

“Yes, old sport.” He rasps in his sleep, pressing his face more to me and gripping at the shirt at my sides, making a suspender clip pop from my pants.

I wonder what he dreams about. Who that  _ ‘old sport’ _ is directed at? What had they said for him to agree to it? I wanted to ask him about it but, that would be a bit much.

“Darling, yes…” His voice is slurred. “I like that,  _ Darling _ .” He releases my right side and fumbles around until his hand clasps my wrist and thumb with his in my palm.

I tense and feel his fingers twitch when I slide my hand up into his hair. He hums contently and a smile ticks at his lips, broken by a single cough that shakes him. I believe he’s about to awake as he sturs and I flinch, clenching my eyelids shut forcefully.

He doesn’t though and he laces a leg around one of mine, his foot peeking from the covers at the edge of the bed. He whines and his forehead crunches. “Love?” He croaks out as a question. “No… Actually, maybe… Yes, yes I do.” His head nods a bit.

Daisy.

He was probably talking to me about loving Daisy, or it could be Tom. His words aren’t harsh or laced with venom like they usually are when he’s speaking with Tom. I just assume it’s me because of how gentle his words are, he only speaks to a small few with that tone.

I continue twirling his hair over my fingers and massaging his scalp subconsciously. I can feel his heart beating and it’s so nice. I could, for just this one moment in time, pretend that Jay Gatsby wasn’t in love with my cousin or that he was impossibly heterosexual. Just for now, I could pretend we were safely in love and that I wasn’t hopelessly and madly falling for such a far away man.

“Gatsby.” I whisper to myself as I push his hair away from his face.

“Nick.” He answers groggily and clings tighter to me. Another feeble cough rumbles in his chest.

I pull his blanket around him as I can see a small part of his exposed stomach and it was driving me insane.  _ He _ was driving me insane. How could he not? He was beautiful with his short, blond hair and his long, black eyelashes. His blue eyes that shone brighter than the stars on a crystal clear evening, that were deeper than the ocean and bluer than the perfect pool in his yard. 

That smile. Don’t get me started on it.

Lord, that was one hell of a smile. It purified me and was a sin all at once. 

His lips were so pink and so plump and smooth looking, so kissable.

I don’t even realize I’m falling asleep until I’m far too gone.

⚣

I wake and find Gatsby still in place and my fingers still wrapped in his hair. He’d drooled all on my shirt and curled more into me. I smile because, somehow, when he felt like absolute rubbish and was having weird fever dreams and drooling all over me, he still looked as perfect as always.

He coughs a bit and lets out a soft whimper, hiccuping. It’s beyond cute. And, his eyes suddenly scrunch hard and he sneezes so hard that I’m afraid he broke a rib.

His eyes flash open but, he doesn’t move one bit, other than his eyes. I detangle my fingers as discreetly as possible and his head flies upward. Our eyes meet and we both burn crimson.

Gatsby sits up and prys our limbs apart, fumbling to the other side of the bed from me. “I’m so sorry, Nick.” He chokes out as he pulls the blankets more around himself to hide his face.

“It’s fine, Jay.” I assure and he peers out at me.

“Lord! I drooled  _ all over  _ you! I am  _ so _ sorry, Nick! Let me get you-”

“Gatsby, calm down. It’s fine. You’re ill, sick people do weird stuff that means nothing. We’re fine.” I insist calmly, touching his wrist. His movement seizes and he sits like an agitated dog.

“I still feel bad, old sport,” He frowns. “Your shirt is gross now.”

I sigh. “If it will make you feel better,  _ I’ll _ go find myself a new shirt, okay?” I offer and he relents.

“You can take anything. Keep anything.” He tells me and I roll my eyes. I’ll only keep it until it no longer smells of his wonderful scent.

I find a silky, pink shirt and wander back to where Gatsby was on the bed. I pull my suspenders free and begin to undo my shirt buttons, leaving the shirt on the bed.

“What are-... You-... You’re changing?...  _ Here _ ?” He asks with a slight crack in his voice, like it pains him.

“Oh-...” I stop popping the buttons. “Sorry, I can-”

“It’s fine, I just-... You don’t seem like the type that would… Well… Undress in front of strangers.” He coughs and his body shakes.

“Oh, so we’re strangers, huh?” I tease. “Didn’t know strangers slept on other strangers.” He blushes furiously.

“I meant like-like…. People! In general, Nick!” He breaks into a hysterical coughing fit that brings me to sit and rub his back until it calms. He pants and reaches his arm out for his tea. I hand it to him and he sips the ice-cold flavored water.

“I was teasing you, it’s alright, Jay.” I chuckle lightly, sanding and finishing off my shirt before sliding it off. 

Gatsby reaches out and retreats so fast that I almost believe that it was my imagination. “Okay?” I ask him and he coughs. 

“I-... Fine. I just was-... I was going to-...” His eyes flicker for an excuse before pointing to my leg. “Your pocket.”

I notice it’s untucked and I press my fist into it to fix it. “Thanks.” I nod and reach to the shirt without paying attention and brus my hand with his. We both jump a bit and quickly recover as he thrusts the shirt my way. I slide it on and button it up.

“You-... Nick, you missed a button, Darling,” He breathes and his eyes get wide as he looks up to see if I’d heard. I had. “Sorry, I-... Old sport.” Is the only explanation he gives me before pulling me to the bed to fix my buttoning error. He redoes them all except for the top three or four.

I reach for them an he pushes my hands back. “What?” I ask.

“That’s how you-...” He turns away for a second, processing his next words. “How you get all the ladies.” He nods and I touch the exposed skin.

“Do you like it better this way?” I blurt without a single thought. Gatsby looks taken aback and that is surly a new look that I haven’t seen ever before.

“I-... I’m not a girl, old sport. It doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head, almost like he’s ridding himself of any other thought.

“It  _ does _ matter.” I answer and he continues shaking his head.

“You’re looking for a woman so, you have to wear your clothes the right way to get them.”

“What about  _ guys _ , Jay? What would they like?” I press and he still doesn’t seem to get the hint, like he’s shaking it away.

“What does it matter, Nick? You’re trying to woo Jordan Baker.” He dismisses me.

“What if I’m not, though?” I’m on my knees, close to Gatsby. He reaches out and touches my bare skin.

“You are.”

“Not.” I finish for him.

“Then,  _ who _ ?” He asks and I sigh, slumping back.

“Nobody,” I mumble. “If it’s not apparent then it’s not worth it, Jay. Just get some sleep.” I shake my head and Jay places a hand on my thigh.

“Nick… Tell me,” He says and something in his eyes says he knows already. “ _ Say it _ .”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Who are you trying to impress, old sport?”

“You.”

And, Gatsby kisses me. He presses me back to the bed and kisses me so hard I can’t remember our names. He kisses me until his lungs burn and he chokes.

“Thank, God, I was right.” He pants so soft it’s hard to make out what he was saying.

“How could you not be?” I say just as soft.

“I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I was awake most of the time you played with my hair and-... And, I couldn’t tell.” He laughs to himself as my cheeks get red.

“Just kiss me and shut up… Maybe then you’ll feel better.”

"I already do."

And, we kiss and kiss and kiss.


End file.
